i would like to get to know you
by seemslikeaporno
Summary: It happens by accident, a slip of the tongue. Or, Robbie likes calling Beck "daddy" and Beck secretly likes it more than Robbie does.


_i would like to get to know you_

**Notes**: I'm really sorry for this.**  
Warning(s)**: Sexual content (oral, penetrative sex, sex in public places), daddy!kink, humiliation!kink, spanking, over-stimulation, d/s, BDSM undertones...really, this piece is just filthy.

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It happens by accident, a slip of the tongue.

Robbie has had a bad day. His jaw is tensed and his chest is constricted and he can't keep his breathing steady, needs his asthma inhaler but can't find it in his bag. He hangs back after his acting class, searching desperately in his backpack, lungs so tight that he can hardly suck in air, his anxiousness only increasing with every second he spends looking for his inhaler.

"Robbie?" Someone asks. Robbie jolts, already on edge, but doesn't have time to turn, to see that it's Beck, because Beck is already leaning over him, pressing a comforting hand into his back, rubbing small circles, "Hey, hey, are you okay?" He asks, eyebrows furrowed in concern. Robbie wheezes in a breath, squeezing his eyes closed, two single tears escaping from the corners and tracking down his cheeks.

"My - inhaler," he says, "I can't - I need to find it."

Beck shushes him, kneeling beside him to look through Robbie's bag. "You sure it's not in your locker?" He asks as he shuffles through loose papers and some of the books.

"It - should be in my bag," Robbie says with a weak gesture, swallowing thickly, breaths shallow and harsh.

"Hey, c'mon," Beck soothes, reaching up with one hand to pat Robbie's knee, "C'mon, calm down. You're not helping yourself, getting all worked up like this." His voice is soft, kind. Robbie finds himself wanting to settle down just to appease Beck. He swallows, tries to gather himself.

"I - I can't," he finally gets out, "I feel like, like, I can't _breathe_, Beck," Robbie says, tension stacking in his chest, like building blocks.

"Shh." Beck unzips another pouch of Robbie's bag with his free hand, one hand massaging Robbie's knee, "Here, look, found it," he finally says, tugging the inhaler from the pouch and handing it to Robbie, who takes it quickly and presses it between his lips, filling his lungs. Beck continues to rub his fingers over Robbie's jeans, waiting until he seems to be breathing normally before he removes it. "Better?" Beck asks with a small smile.

"Yes," Robbie says, swallowing. "Thanks, daddy." The word slips out before his mind processes what he's saying. Beck blinks a few times, and Robbie's eyes widen, cheeks flushing a deep red. "I, I didn't," he stammers, humiliation delving deep into his skin, "I don't - I don't know _why_ I said that, Beck, I _swear_," Robbie babbles, his hands shaking from nerves.

Beck swallows, tongue darting out to lick his lips. "Don't worry about it," he says, his voice smooth. Robbie snaps his mouth shut, trying to read Beck's expression and failing. Beck stands, awkwardly patting Robbie's shoulder once. "Really, it's fine," he adds, "You - don't worry," he repeats, like maybe he's trying to convince himself, too.

He looks a bit - _embarrassed_, now. He can't quite meet Robbie's gaze.

"I'm sorry," Robbie says quickly.

"Don't _apologize_," Beck answers, nearly cutting Robbie off. He sucks in a breath and then lets it out, carding a hand through his hair, "It doesn't. It doesn't bother me." He looks down at the floor and Robbie stares at him, mouth agape. Beck finally glances at him and Robbie presses his lips together into a thin line. "Take care of yourself, Rob," Beck says, and it seems awkward, out of place, "If you need something, I'm here, alright? I can - take care of you."

Robbie's stomach hops into his throat but he swallows it down, trying to keep himself calm. No one has ever told him that so steadfastly, so surely. It's nice.

"Yeah," he says softly, "Uh, thank you. Beck." He says his name firmly, like he's trying to get used to the sound again.

"Yeah," Beck says, heading for the door, "Yeah, no problem."

.

.

It becomes a huge problem.

Ever since the word has left Robbie's mouth, he can't stop associating everything Beck does as paternal. He cleans up after Cat when she spills her orange juice onto the lunch table; he pets Tori's hair when she blurts something silly; he pushes a pencil Jade drops in the hall back into her book bag without her noticing; he squeezes Andre's shoulder when he shows him his new song. And Robbie _obsesses_ over it, craves the petting and coddling and assurances Beck gives.

It doesn't help that Beck has suddenly taken a higher interest in Robbie's well-being. When Robbie nearly falls out of his seat at lunch from laughing so hard, Beck is there to catch his shoulder, propping him back up with a thin smile. If Robbie stumbles over his words when talking to Tori or Cat, Beck is there to rub circles into the small of his back, comforting, easing him through it. When Beck kisses Robbie in a dark corner of the school, like they've always sometimes done, he ruffles his curls and then fixes them when they're finished, setting them back into just the right place.

It happens again on a Friday night, when Robbie is lying on the floor of Beck's RV, listening to Beck play some game on his phone. It had originally been a study date, but neither were in the mood to study; they had ended up talking and had somehow fallen into a comfortable silence, their thoughts talking, instead.

"Do you want to kiss for a bit?" Beck asks from the bed, leaning over to peer at Robbie on the floor, phone pressed face-down into his stomach. Robbie swallows, nodding swiftly, and then sits up and sidles close to Beck, waiting for Beck to kiss him. "Come up here, you goof," Beck says laughingly, lightly gripping Robbie's forearm and tugging gently.

Robbie quickly clambers onto the bed with a huff, crawling over Beck and bracketing his waist with his knees, casting a shadow.

"There you go," Beck murmurs, pressing his hand to the back of Robbie's neck and tugging him down, sliding their lips together. Robbie makes a small noise in the back of his throat, keeps himself steady by pushing his palms into the mattress. Robbie likes kissing Beck; likes feeling safe, cared for. Wanted.

Robbie whimpers into Beck's mouth, dropping to his elbows, their chests touching. One of Beck's hands travels down Robbie's spine and he dips his fingers under the hem of Robbie's shirt, feeling the smooth expanse of skin at the small of his back.

"Beck," Robbie breathes, pulling back, "Please, I need, I _need_ - "

"Yeah," Beck says, cutting him off. Robbie braces himself as Beck seamlessly flips them over so that Beck is straddling Robbie's waist, "Yeah, babe, I can take care of you," Beck murmurs, pushing himself backwards onto Robbie's thighs so he can unbutton his jeans and tug down the zipper. Beck grips the waistband of his pants and Robbie lifts his hips, shimmying to help push them off. "Perfect, babe, you're so good for me."

Robbie outright groans at that, the noise bubbling from his throat without warning. Beck palms Robbie's erection through his briefs, his eyes trained on Robbie's face, mouth parted, slightly, to breathe easier. Robbie swallows, canting his hips up into Beck's hand, craving fiction, praise, _anything_. Beck finally dips his hand into Robbie's underwear, pressing his thumb to the head of Robbie's cock, and Robbie moans, gripping at the sheets helplessly.

"What do you want?" Beck asks, pressing feather-light touches over Robbie's aching erection, beads of pre-cum forming at the head.

"I - I want," Robbie tries, cutting himself off with a low moan, "Please, please touch me," he begs, lifting his hips from the bed despite Beck's attempts to hold him down, "Take care of me, please."

"Yeah, I can take care of you," Beck agrees, pulling his hand away from Robbie's cock completely to spit onto his palm. Almost immediately his hand is back on him, sliding down to the base and back up in quick, precise movements. "Whenever you need me, Rob," Beck murmurs, leaning over Robbie's torso to kiss down his neck, to the space between his collar bones, "I'll always be there."

"_Daddy_," Robbie keens, too far gone to be embarrassed, gasping as Beck's hand slides even more quickly over his cock, spurred on by Robbie's mere utterance of the word. "God, _please_," Robbie whimpers, fingers fumbling in Beck's hair so he can drag him up and kiss him.

"You're so good, babe," Beck mutters against Robbie's mouth, "Such a good boy for me."

"Yeah," Robbie sighs, voice catching as Beck twists his wrist over Robbie's dick in a new, delicious way, "Wanna be good for you," he murmurs into Beck's hair, shuddering as Beck sucks a bruise into Robbie's shoulder, "_Please_, Beck."

"C'mon, baby," Beck breathes over Robbie's forming bruise, "Can you come for me?" Beck tugs at Robbie's cock a few more times, "Robbie," he says, "Robbie, be a good boy and come for me." Beck strokes his hand over Robbie once more before Robbie is coming over Beck's fist and his stomach, droplets landing as far up as his chest. Robbie takes a few shuddering breaths, trying to gather himself, glasses fogging up, and Beck readjusts himself, crawling up the length of Robbie's body and pushing his cock into Robbie's pliant mouth.

Robbie moans around it, sucking eagerly, wanting so, so desperately to be good for Beck. It is mere minutes before Beck comes, shooting down Robbie's throat. He swallows around him, even lifting his head to lick at the head when Beck pulls out of his mouth, taking deep, quivering breaths.

"Was - was I a good boy?" Robbie asks, his voice wrecked from Beck's cock, "Was I good, daddy?" The word comes out again, and Robbie almost has enough sense to feel shy, but then Beck rolls off of him and leans over, pressing a kiss into Robbie's hairline. Robbie positively melts at the touch.

"You were so good, baby," Beck coos, reassuring and kind, "So good for me."

Robbie sighs happily, curling into Beck, who puts a protective arm around him.

.

.

Once the implications bleed into their private life, it gets harder and harder for Robbie to disassociate Beck from 'daddy'. The word keeps slipping from his mouth. When Beck helps Robbie into his jacket and presses a kiss to his forehead before school, Robbie says, "Thank you, daddy,"; when Beck jerks himself off in the janitor's closet and comes over Robbie's face, Robbie keens, "Daddy, daddy, _daddy_," while he runs a hand over himself; every little thing Beck does pulls the word from Robbie's mouth, so often and so casually that Robbie doesn't realize that other people may find it weird.

And Beck, is in casual, laid-back way, doesn't seem to care. In fact, he seems to try harder and harder to invoke a reaction from Robbie; he gives him a cuddle in the hall, sometimes, tells him to have a good day. When they fuck, he calls Robbie a good boy, tells him how wonderful he's being because he seems to know, now, that Robbie likes to hear it. He adjusts Robbie's glasses and fixes his collar and once he even squats down to tie Robbie's shoe.

It isn't until a Wednesday afternoon that they realize how oddly they've been acting; they've been in some kind of bliss for the last couple weeks, ignoring the looks sent their way, playing with their new fixation, like a game.

They're sitting at the lunch table, eating, but when Robbie takes a bite of his burger, ketchup spurts onto his light blue polo. He startles, quickly setting down his food with a quiet, "Darn it!" He reaches for a napkin but Beck beats him to it, grabbing three or four and bunching them up, pressing them to the neck of his water bottle and tilting it to wet it. He presses them to Robbie's shirt, dabbing quickly to get the ketchup out before it stains.

"Uh, Beck?" Andre says from across the table, "Are you...cleaning Robbie's shirt for him?"

Both Beck and Robbie freeze for a long moment. Then Beck quickly drops his hands, pressing them into his thighs, shooting Andre a smile. "Sorry, it's - habit. I babysit," he says, shrugging his shoulders and passing the napkins to Robbie, "Here you go, Rob."

Robbie is stunned out of silence when Beck presses the napkins into his palms, and then he swallows thickly, his throat suddenly having closed up. He goes to clean his shirt, but his hands are shaking. Beck - is embarrassed of him. He doesn't want to take care of Robbie if someone is there. Robbie feels the self-pity rise into his throat like vomit, feels indignant and small and sad all at once, wonders if Beck cares about him at all.

"Hey," Beck says suddenly, pressing his hand into Robbie's shoulder, "Hey, are you okay?"

Robbie feels like his lungs have seized up, his stomach twisting into uncomfortable knots at Beck's touch. He feels hot all over, feels shaky and breathless, feels confused and unwanted and -

"Rob, c'mon, let's get you to the bathroom," Beck says, standing up and ignoring the bewildered look Andre shoots them. Robbie blindly copies him, trying to keep his arms to himself so he doesn't wrap them around Beck's waist. This is - different. This feeling. He's gotten used to the coddling and care and now, now Beck doesn't want to do it anymore, not if other people are there, not if it makes him look bad. It doesn't matter what Robbie wants - it's about Beck, Beck only cares about himself, he doesn't care for him.

Beck presses a hand into the small of Robbie's back and leads him to the boy's bathroom, which is, thankfully, empty when they step inside. Beck finds the lock and twists it so they can have some privacy, and then is immediately on Robbie, pulling him into a hug.

"Baby," he says softly, petting Robbie's curls, "Are you okay? You looked lost out there."

"I - " Robbie starts pathetically, fisting his hands in Beck's shirt, "You didn't want to...I don't - _daddy_," Robbie gets out, voice catching, "Why can't you take care of me all the - the time? I n-need you to take care of me," Robbie whimpers, hiding his face in Beck's shoulders, shaking with the effort of keeping in his sobs.

"Oh, Robbie," Beck says softly, running his hands up and down Robbie's back, comforting and soft, "I'm sorry, I didn't think of how it would - I didn't know it would bother you this badly," he settles on saying, squeezing Robbie close to him.

"I felt like, like you d-didn't _care_ about me," Robbie admits, feeling small even when he's around Beck's size, "I - I need you to - to care about me," he chokes out, tears spilling from his eyes and landing on Beck's shirt, "No one else cares about me, I need you, daddy, I need - "

"Shh." Beck pulls back, lifting his hands to cradle Robbie's face. "Look at me, Rob," he says softly, and Robbie does, "I'm always here to take care of you; I care about you so, so much, Robbie." He runs his thumbs over Robbie's cheekbones, "You don't ever have to feel like I don't care. You're so important to me, Robbie, you're so good for me."

Robbie whimpers, nodding even though he feels hopeless, like a lost cause. But Beck's hands are warm and his eyes are genuine, his words sweet like honey, sticking to Robbie's mind and settling him down. He takes a steadying breath, lets Beck kiss the tears off of his cheeks, lets him take of Robbie's fogged glasses and wipe them with the bottom of his shirt before he replaces them, scooting them up the bridge of Robbie's nose.

"Better?" Beck asks, the corners of his mouth lifting in a reassuring smile. Robbie nods, wiping at his nose with the back of his hand, sniffling. Beck quickly reaches past him, tugging at a paper towel until it rips, offering it to Robbie, who blows his nose into it. "Good boy," Beck says, petting Robbie's curls, "You're doing so well for daddy."

The way Beck says it is different than how Robbie says it, but it's breathtaking all the same. Robbie feels his heart seize up, feels heat shoot all the way down his groin.

"Yeah," Robbie agrees almost immediately, voice thick with want and adoration and need, "So good for you, daddy, I can be so good," Robbie rambles, eyes searching Beck's for some sort of direction. Beck sees what he's done, reaches behind Robbie's head to tug him close, to kiss the tip of his nose. Robbie sighs against his chin, lying a kiss there until Beck presses their lips together, sliding his tongue into Robbie's mouth.

"How good can you be?" Beck asks between kisses, voice rough around the edges, "Can you be quiet if daddy sucks you off?"

Robbie immediately keens, hips bucking forward to meet Beck's. Beck quickly pushes him back, pressing him against the wall. Robbie drops the paper towel he was holding onto the floor. "No, no, Rob. That's not being good," Beck says, and Robbie quickly snaps his mouth shut, breathing heavily through his nose, trying with every ounce of self-control to keep still. "Good, much better," Beck says, keeping eye contact with Robbie as he undoes his jeans and pushes them down with his briefs, exposing Robbie's half-hard cock. Beck immediately gets his hand around it and Robbie starts to moan until he remembers what Beck said, and promptly keeps quiet. "Good, babe," Beck praises, dropping to his knees in front of him, splaying his free hand over Robbie's thigh, keeping him pressed back against the wall, "Don't move, okay?" He says, eyes flickering to Robbie, who nods deftly.

Robbie bites his lip to keep from making a sound as Beck quickly envelops the head of his cock in his mouth, pressing down halfway and then pulling back, using his free hand to wrap around the bottom half and stroke what isn't in his mouth. Beck works quickly, giving Robbie his undivided attention, not even reaching down to touch himself though Robbie can see he is achingly hard in his jeans, dick strained against the fabric.

Beck pulls off for a moment, stroking Robbie while his mouth isn't on him. "You're being so good, babe," he says, panting, "You're such a good boy for me, being so quiet," he says, going back down, and nearly managing to get all of Robbie's cock into his mouth before he pulls back, gasping. Robbie nearly moans but clamps a hand over his mouth, biting into the side of his palm. "God, you're such a big boy," Beck murmurs, and Robbie can't help but cry out as he comes, suddenly, over Beck's fist. Beck seems too surprised to admonish him for making a sound, staring at Robbie's cock in amazement. Robbie is shocked that he came, too, but what Beck said had just - _struck_ something inside of him. Robbie never thought he would've been someone that was turned on by dirty talk, but Beck has clearly got a gift.

"Beck," Robbie gasps out, reaching for him, running his fingers through his hair, "Daddy."

"Get - a paper towel, babe," Beck says, waiting patiently as Robbie does as he's asks, handing it off to Beck, who cleans him up, "You were so good for me, Rob," Beck says, tucking Robbie back into his underwear and tugging his pants up, buttoning and zipping them closed, "Such a good boy, made me so proud."

"I - can be better," Robbie says immediately, helping Beck up and then dropping to his own knees, pressing the heel of his hand into Beck's erection, "I can, I can be better for you, I want to, daddy," Robbie says, undoing his belt.

"Yeah, okay, Rob," Beck sighs contentedly, fisting his hands in Robbie's curls, "Yeah, be a good boy for daddy."

.

.

Beck and Robbie have always had this sort of relationship, where they fuck around with each other when they're lonely or bored or horny, but it has never been often. It became a bit more frequent when Beck and Jade broke up for good a few months back, but it's never been an everyday thing, and their sex life has never interfered with how they treat each other on a day-to-day basis.

Now, though, it's like they can't help but let that part of their lives intermingle with their norm. When Beck doesn't give Robbie enough attention during the day, Robbie is practically on his knees in private, begging for Beck to take care of him, to let him be good for him. When Robbie keeps his tongue in-check and doesn't say the word, Beck will go out of his way to make the word slip from his lips, make Robbie gasp a "Thank you, oh, _daddy_," when Beck makes him come or when he fixes his hair or when he helps Robbie into his jacket. It started out as fun, but it is slowly creeping into obsession territory, and the game keeps getting a little more intense each time - not that either of them minds it.

Robbie is on Beck's lap, now, taking shallow breaths through his parted mouth, trying to keep a rhythm on Beck's cock. Beck's fingers are splayed over Robbie's backside, digging into his skin, leaving bruises as Robbie raises himself and then slams back down on Beck's cock with a long moan, his cock jolting and smearing pre come over his stomach each time he moves, his chest flushed red.

"Don't - don't come before me," Beck says, helping lift Robbie and let him slide back down, hands at his hips, now, "Can you do that, baby? Let daddy come first?" Beck asks as Robbie groans into the juncture between his neck and shoulder, breaths fiery hot against his warm skin.

"Y-Yeah," Robbie manages, steadying himself as he lifts himself back up and and then seats himself on Beck's cock, finding a quick rhythm, "_Oh_," he says suddenly after a slight change in angle, Beck's cock prodding at his prostate and almost causing him to lose it.

"C'mon, Rob," Beck says, voice strained. Robbie whines into Beck's hair, shifting his hips and gasping as he's pressed further onto Beck, his cock buried deep inside of him, "Robbie," Beck says again, bringing a hand to Robbie's cock; one stroke sends Robbie tumbling over the edge, hips moving erratically with the movement. Beck immediately lets go of him, pounding into Robbie until he follows about a minute afterwards with a long groan, Robbie draped over his chest, trying to gather himself as Beck finishes.

"D-Daddy," Robbie whimpers into Beck's shoulder, "I'm sorry, I wasn't - I wasn't good."

"No, you weren't," Beck agrees after he catches his breath. He helps Robbie off of him and stands on shaking legs, peeling off the condom and tossing it into one of the trashcans. There is an awkward silence; it isn't the first time Robbie hasn't been able to something Beck has asked him to, but the way that Beck is looking at him is peculiar. "Do you - want to be punished?" Beck asks, and this is _Beck _asking, not daddy, because he doesn't want to push Robbie too far, and the thought makes Robbie's chest expand, a strange form of contentment settling there.

Robbie swallows thickly, keeping Beck's gaze, "I - I deserve it," Robbie says, "I didn't - I disobeyed you," Robbie continues, breaths coming out shorter as Beck steps forward, purposefully, towards the bed.

"You did," he agrees, sitting down at the edge of the bed and rubbing his hand over Robbie's arm, "Come here," he says, softly, tugging Robbie forward until he's settled over Beck's lap, backside up and his torso pressed against the mattress while his hips stay in Beck's thighs. Beck absentmindedly runs his fingers over Robbie's left cheek, humming. "You want me to spank you?"

Robbie outright moans, hips rutting against Beck's leg; Beck brings a hand down, leaving Robbie's ass red-hot and stinging. "None of that, babe; this is a punishment," he says sternly, smacking Robbie's other cheek to match the mark on the left. Robbie jerks underneath him, whining Beck's name into his forearm, biting down on the skin there. "Are you going to disobey me again?" Beck asks, bringing his hand down again.

Robbie cries out, shaking his head.

"Use your words, babe," Beck says, slapping the opposite cheek.

"N-No, daddy," Robbie whimpers, breathing shallow, "No, 'm sorry for being bad, I'll be good, I'll be so good for you," he rambles, voice hitching between words. He feels over-sensitized and warm all over, humiliation and shame and the need to fix things making him hard again. Beck can feel his cock on his thigh, and Robbie has to try exceptionally hard not to tip his hips forward for friction, because Beck had told him not to.

"You're usually such a good boy," Beck says softly, the soft caress of his hand through Robbie's curls startlingly different from the slap on his bum. Robbie whines, tears springing to his eyes from overstimulation. His cock is achingly hard and he's delirious from wanting to come again from being bent over Beck's lap, humiliated and shamed for doing something wrong. He knows that Beck only does it because he cares, and that's - "Robbie, you're doing so good, just a couple more," Beck says, cutting off Robbie's train of thought.

He brings his hand down again - _hard_ - and Robbie moans his name, biting down on his tongue to level out the pleasure with pain. "You look so good, babe," Beck says, slapping his backside again, "You're not going to disappoint me again, I know it. You make me so proud," Beck says, and Robbie whines, hips tilting forward from the praise. "Ah-ah, don't do it, Robbie," Beck reminds him, slapping his cheek again, "Almost done, just one more," he says, finally bringing his hand down a last time, harder than ever.

Robbie cries out bucking forward from the sheer force of it, nearly coming but managing to hold it off. Beck gently turns Robbie over onto his front, sliding out from underneath him. He grins at him, pressing his fingertips to the head of Robbie's cock and running his other hand over Robbie's stomach, a caress.

"So good," Beck tells him sweetly, "You can come now, babe. You've been such a good boy. The best," Beck says and Robbie feels himself flush, fuzzy all over, "You're so good, Rob," Beck tugs his hand over Robbie's dick, "You've made me so proud, I'm so proud of you, I'm going to take care of you, baby," Beck cuts off when Robbie's orgasm hits him again with such force that his hips lift from the bed, his cock spurting only a small drip of come the second time.

"Daddy," Robbie breathes after gulping in enough air, "Oh, god, _daddy_," Robbie whimpers, and Beck climbs over his body, lays kisses over his collarbones and jaw and face, showers him with praise. Beck - cares about him, he's made Beck proud, and that makes Robbie's heart swell, makes him feel wanted and loved and adored and -

Robbie could get used to this.


End file.
